


Just Like Yours

by venividivici



Series: Just Like Yours [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Niall, Non AU, Pining, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivici/pseuds/venividivici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-AU. Despite the fact it was accidental, Niall was looking forward to it.<br/>He just wasn't looking forward to raising the baby on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I was capable of writing a Ziall fic with only 5k words!!!! Well. 5.5, but yeah. I'm kind of proud of myself. I hope you like this. This story took up my whole day.  
> On a totally unrelated note I went through a ziall fanfiction blog last night and I noticed I was under the ao3 users category for Ziall writers and if whoever made that is reading this, I just want to thank you so so much. I even confessed to my mom I was a writer and was actually recognized! (That didn't end well with her wanting to know what exactly I write about which would ground me since she's against homosexuality.) You made my life exceptionally better just knowing what brings me happiness actually effects other people. I am perpetually in your debt.  
> And for everyone else actually reading my poor writing. It must not be that bad if people actually take their time to read it; it makes me continue, honestly. You are my muse. Thank you for that.  
> As always, enjoys xx

Liam's there when they tell Niall he's pregnant. He's the only one there because he's the _only_ one who actually makes an effort to visit Niall on his personal spare time, now that they aren't a band anymore.

Liam gapes his mouth open and laughs surprisingly after a moment, and when he turns to the blond laying down on the crackling paper, Niall knows he's giving him a teasing look, something bordering between disbelief and amusement. Niall can't bring himself to look back.

He stares at the ceiling and is able to vividly remember _when_ he got pregnant, how it was after a heated interview and the two of them went backstage to relieve some of the tension afterwards; it was the only time he didn't use a condom and Niall's not up for having a shitty soap opera as his life.

The pretty doctor murmurs an awkward congratulations, and laughs herself when only Liam cooperates.

It's when she gives Liam thin-folded pamphlets and the prescription for _Niall's_ vitamins that he snaps out of it.

"He's not the father," he speaks, shuffling into his white sneakers, and it registers in Liam's mind why he's being told all this information that doesn't benefit him at all.

He says the same thing, quickly shaking his head and exclaiming _whoa, I'm not the father!_ , and he amicably laughs through her uncomfortable apology and tells her it's fine, they're just friends.

Niall doesn't smile nor laugh once.

*

Despite the first few weeks Liam's stayed to help him get situated with the throwing up and erratic internal discomforts, Niall realizes he's going to go through this alone. He's going to raise a child, a living being, all by himself and he wasn't really looking forward to that. Fuck, he wasn't looking forward to getting pregnant in the _first_ place. But here he is, making sure he takes the right amount of pills every few hours and stays away from any type of alcohol which isn't that hard when your heart's in it as much as his.

He's almost done his first trimester, used to the slight notch under his belly, when Zayn visits.

He hasn't seen him _since_ the intense interview, doesn't know if Zayn put the pieces together but there's a part deep inside the blond that kinda maybe sort of hopes he doesn't have to be the one to break the news to him. (If he ever decides to.)

Zayn comes with bags full of groceries and a duffel bag hoisted in the crook of his elbow. He stares back at Niall at the door, gives a small smile and shrugs, says, "Everyone else saw you already, didn't want to come when you had other visitors." He has an apologetic look when seconds go by. It makes Niall smile, for some reason, and he mindlessly trails a hand under his stomach, leaves it there when he moves back to make room.

"You brought me food. Can't tell you no now, can I."

*

It's normal. It feels like they're back on the tour bus, just lounging around. The only difference is there's no sex, an extra person is between them and the floor beneath them is steady.

Niall really misses the sex. He really, _really_ misses sex more than anything.

Zayn's just this constant presence and Niall's never remembered him to be so... _there_.

Niall wakes up and he's making breakfast, sweats hanging loosely and already accustomed to the blond's sleeping patterns. There's always a playlist on from the speakers in the living room, some gentle feminine voice with a quick melody. It's soothing, oddly. Niall knows it's customarily for him.

Niall's trying so hard to not be as enamored as he is. But he fell in love with the tan man in front of him a minute into their first performance together and that hasn't changed yet.

*

Zayn's really smart, and Niall really tries not to let it get to him.

He always knows what's best for Niall, knows what meat has the right amount of protein and picks up the expensive milk with the most calcium.

Zayn tries to keep the macaroni and cheese to a minimum because that's the only thing the blonde boy wants to eat. Sometimes he comes back with extra clothes from his home to find said boy eating it straight out of the pan, drizzled ketchup on the surface because everything he consumes _needs_ to have syrup or ketchup.

Zayn bakes the chicken since it's healthier while he showers. He gives him ginseng tea before bed to help with the back pains and shushes him when Niall insists repeatedly that he could wash the day's dishes.

It's in the middle of his second trimester that Niall starts getting a bit more emotional, starts laughing obnoxiously at the mildly humorous parts of television shows and gets close to sobs during the rom coms Harry lets them borrow that has more angst than anything else.

Zayn's fixing the Air Central while Niall misses Liam. He was able to tell him anything and simply everything and he's across the country at the moment with a new girlfriend and Niall wants to tell him how much he wants more with Zayn, how he's _there_ but not there enough, not close enough.

He's intently looking at the floor, not even aware the corners of his eyes are close to spilling over with tears when Zayn comes back, sweat shining across his forehead and scattered across his chest.

"Niall?" he asks carefully, and Niall looks to find him shimmering, blinks the tears away to see more clearly. "Niall, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he murmurs, settles back into the couch and doesn't bother lifting his head. There's a slight budge forming on his belly, a small hill there that reminds him why all of this is worth it. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"No, you're not fine."

"Zayn, I don't want to talk."

That seems to shut him up, then. Because he looks to the carpet and slowly nods his head, doesn't say anything else as he sits back and turns the TV on, in the middle of some 1960s program.

It's after the upbeat credits that Zayn pressures on, gets a hand to massage the back of Niall's neck and chucks his pale chin to look at him.

It's annoying how Niall immediately smiles, which is why his reply seems more snarky than he wanted.

"What do you want, Zayn?" Zayn smiles too, looks away for a moment before focusing back with purpose.

"I just don't like seeing you like this, like. I just want to make you smile, s'all?" he questions, like maybe, just maybe it was a bit uncalled for saying that so clearly. He must know it too, because he purses one side of his mouth seriously and whispers, "still want to make you smile, actually."

Niall looks away, blinks because he's not going to cry in front of Zayn, not going to cry because they're not where he wants them to be. There's life inside him and it's a reminder that there are bigger things to worry about, bigger things to not be selfish.

"I don't know, I just," he breathes, unconsciously moves a hand over the bump. "I really miss," _Liam_ , he wants to say, but right now it's just the two of them, doesn't want anyone else present in this intimate moment, "I miss _sex_ ," he stresses.

The hand on his neck freezes, and Zayn rushes out a laugh, curves a questioning eyebrow and stutters, "You what?"

Niall's agitated with himself, flusters in his skin and burns under Zayn's heavy gaze. "Shut up, shut the fuck up. I'm pregnant and you can't make fun of me," he bites before pathetically slumping his head back against the cushion. "Do you know how difficult it is with a stomach? I can't even see my whole dick from this angle and it's _so_ hard trying to move around it. _Fuck_ ," he screams, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes until the tears stop.

"Hey. Hey, it's fine. Don't cry. Please don't cry?" Zayn asks, suddenly closer and gently pulling Niall's hand to rest on his lap. It takes a minute for Niall to settle, to lean his head against Zayn's shoulder and rub his stomach comfortly. _Sorry for that, Ems_ , he thinks. _We will never speak of this again_. It's while he's thinking to his child that Zayn speaks up, chokes a chuckle and says, "So. It's _hard_?"

"You're a dick. You're a real dick," Niall spits, already pushing off and heading for the stairs. Going up the steps went a lot smoother in his head, because he's not able to run but slightly wobbles up each step. Which is why Zayn easily runs up behind him, a hand on the wall and the other on the railing, beckoning Niall to not go to bed yet, that yes, he _is_ a dick, an utter stupid dick and they could talk this through. "There's nothing to fucking talk about, go away."

"Niall, come on. Please? I'll help, I promise."

"Help with what?" Niall turns around, stops outside his room and glares at Zayn. "Help. With what. Exactly? Because if you're referring to my sexual state, yeah, you helped _so_ much." He meant to imply his current state, why he was pregnant. But as Zayn gets caught off guard, tries to keep the shock off his face, he shakes his head and regains control.

"No, that's not what I meant, Ni. You know I've been helpful. With everything else I'll help..." he trails, but Niall doesn't hear the rest, only pinpoints _everything else_.

One moment he's angry, ready to snap Zayn's neck if he gets close enough. The next he's deflated, doesn't have the energy to fight and slumps againt the doorframe with a frown.

"So you won't fuck me?" he blurts. And that came out way more forward than he planned, but it's already out there and he doesn't want to beat around the bush and Zayn's looking back at him with bulging eyes. Niall visibly sees him swallow. "Is that what you're telling me right now?" he continues. Because if he's not going to get fucked, he will surely cry from frustration.

"Niall, I know you're upset," he starts, holding a cautious hand up in his direction. "And I know you're going through mood swings, and other shit, but that won't be really smart."

Niall sighs, runs a hand through his hair as he turns around. "Okay," he says, doesn't bother explaining. "Go home, Zayn. I want to be alone."

He doesn't know when exactly Zayn leaves, but an undefined time later the front door is closed lightly. And in the silence that follows Niall lets himself cry, lets himself turn on his side pathetically and attempts forming a ball, but there's a baby in the way and it makes him cry more.

His mind is a jumbled of thoughts, most are negative. He knows Zayn won't sleep with him because he's not the same boy in the band. He's a man now carrying a baby and that changes everything. As the bits of information click in his head, it makes sense. It's reasonable. But it's not his child's fault and he makes sure of that.

"You're the only ray of sunshine in all of this, Ems," he says to his stomach, running a reassuring hand over the taut skin. Ems is the nickname he gave because he doesn't want to know the gender until it's born. Ems fits well.

"If you're a boy, you're going to be so handsome," he sniffs, smiling down at his puckered bellybutton. "You're even going to be more handsome than your father, I promise." This child in him, this life, makes it all worthwhile, and it makes him understand his mother's affectionate nagging and Greg's perpetual discussions of solely Theo. "If you're a girl, you're going to be the most beautiful person in the world. M'gonna have to keep you on a leash," he says. "You're going to be so smart but if you have an attitude I'll still whip your ass."

It's almost midnight, way past the time he slips into slumber that he cleans himself and gets ready for bed. He lays on his back, looks out the window with the same hand over his stomach.

"Just please don't look like him," he says to no one in particular.

*

The next morning Zayn's yet again in the kitchen, a new playlist on with scents of peppers and baked dough in the air.

"Thought I'd give you space for a bit," he shrugs when Niall enters, an inked hand scratching his unkempt hair. "I can go," he offers when Niall doesn't move. "I just don't. Like," he looks away, uncomfortable with himself as he breathes air out of his puffed cheeks. "I don't want you alone? Does that make sense? Is that appropriate? Can I say that? I mean, I know I'm in no position to..." he continues to babble, and Niall looks away to bite his bottom lip.

This makes him happy. It's leading him on, yes, but the fact his best friend still thought of him after an unnecessary dilemma between them the day before makes him _happy_. Makes him really, genuinely happy. It makes him feel like maybe there are more worthwhile things going on in his life.

Zayn's still talking when Niall walks up to him, but his voice dwindles when Niall places an arm around his waist; he can't reach over his shoulders without stretching his stomach uncomfortably.

"You're making me breakfast, right? Can't say no to you."

"It always comes down to food," Zayn laughs. But his arm's pressed across the back of Niall's neck as his forearm pulls his face closer, makes Zayn smack a kiss atop his messy hair.

It's not where Niall wants it to be but Zayn's been more present in his life than everyone else. His mind travels back during the band days, how Zayn always seeked isolation at every possible moment and acutely disappeared when they were given their miniscule breaks.

Niall wants to ask why he's always there when he knows the tan man currently making a healthy omelette would rather be in the confines of his private flat an hour and a half away.

He doesn't ask, though; doesn't think the answer's worth it when he's here anyway.

*

Third trimester hits, belly bulging out that he only sees the tip of his toes when he looks down. He doesn't bother with nip slip tees or fitted shirts anymore. But it's the beginning of fall so it's reasonable when he throws a large sweater on; one that falls just over his hipbones and hands that he has to roll the sleeves. Zayn makes him perpetually wear sweatpants now, does not and _would_ not stop nagging until Niall turns around and roughly pulls the cotton material over his legs and huffs out the room, Zayn hiding his smirk behind him.

Zayn's overcautious with everything, every single fucking thing.

Niall gets pains on his hips and lowerback periodically. They're pounding and make him spread his fingers across the small of his back as he tries to breathe evenly. It hurts when he walks and he's gained an extra thirty pounds for the baby he's carrying and the extra nutrients are only going to the ass he's worked so hard on pre-pregnancy. Zayn practically _orders_ him to lay down now, tells him his body isn't meant to hold a baby.

"Well guess the fuck what, I'm carrying a baby," Niall retorts as he waits for the pain to soothe out, gripping the counter and kneading his lowerback simutaneously.

"The reason why women have wide hips is for when they're pregnant their body can hold themselves up. That's what puberty's _for_ for a female, Ni."

"I'm not toppling over anytime soon, Zayn, I'm fine. And don't make fun of my hips, I'm pregnant." He bats him away but Zayn only makes himself comfortable against the fridge.

"Don't know if you meant your _nonexistent_ hips but--"

"Shut _up_. God, who asked for your opinion?" He's laughing though, which assures Zayn it's safe to get close.

"I mean, everything's going south, yeah, but not here." He's behind Niall, patting the side of his hips lightly. And Niall groans, disguises it with pain.

"Leave me alone." He feels Zayn's laugh on his neck.

Niall's not allowed--really, not allowed--to reach for things on the high cabinets. Because either Zayn idly grabs it with a stern look at him or scolds Niall until he brings his arm down.

Supposedly when you reach up the umbilical cord wraps around the baby's neck. Niall doesn't argue in case it's true but he leaves muttering vulgar names under his breath.

He's not allowed to reach down either. So the times Zayn's not there he sluggishly sits on his bum to reach the item or attempts kneeing on the floor but all the pressure is too much for his one good knee. But most of the time Zayn _is_ there. He's there to pick up the fallen box of pasta. He's there when Niall accidentally drops the remote under the sofa and he's very there when Niall's unable to pull the sweats up his legs.

It's more intimate than he'd like, to admit, the way Zayn's thumbs tucked inside the cloth trail up his legs in the process. How his hands travel to the back of the waistband once it's settled to pat the area once before moving away. It's a little alarming but Zayn moves away before he's able to dwell in the heated state.

When Niall tries to look for a pair of _non_ sweatpants he can't find them, and he has a reliable hunch Zayn hid them. And when Niall questions him about it, Zayn casually informs him that with the pants zipped up and buttoned, the tight pressure can interfere with the growth of the child's philtrum. Niall just stands there gobsmacked because where the actual fuck is this guy getting this information.

It's a day when Niall grabs the box of mac n' cheese in reach, prepared for some melted, cheesy, chewy fucking _goodness_ , that Zayn grabs the box out of his hand before going back to talking on the phone with his father.

"What do you think you're doing?" Niall asks loudly, a weight of angry defeat plummeting in his chest.

Zayn moves the cellphone to his chest. "You ate that right after breakfast. You're not eating it again." The mobile's pressed onto his ear again, and he laughs like there was never a pause.

"Zayn, give me the box," Niall demands, hand outstretched because he really, fucking really wants to eat some with lots of ketchup about now.

"Niall. No."

"Give me the fucking box!"

It makes Zayn gaze at him angrily, telling Yaser he'll call him back as he licks his lips.

"I was talking to my dad, what the hell's gone into you?"

"I want macaroni. And I can make it my damn self. Give me _my_ fucking box, Zayn."

"You're not eating it while I'm here," he concludes, putting the box on the high shelf Niall couldn't reach even if he wasn't pregnant. It's just staring at him, mocking him; the blue Kraft box is practically laughing at him all those feet away.

"Yeah, because you always know best," Niall murmurs, looking for a stool to climb on. He's frustrated. He hasn't fucked anyone a week before he found out and he hasn't been thoroughly _blissfully_ fucked in almost eight months. Zayn's not helping his condtion, either. His hair's falling across his face, the way Niall's always liked. And his tight shirt and loose pants fit just right enough that Niall can imagine what he looks like underneath. And the fact he's _seen_ everything underneath doesn't help either.

Zayn sets what was in his hand on the table, turning to Niall with a hand on his hips.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. Care to speak _loud_ so I can hear you this time?"

"Zayn! Just shut the fuck up! God, you don't know everything!"

"I _don't_ know everything, but I evidently know way more than you when it comes to pregnancy."

"I'm the one carrying the baby here."

"Yeah, and clearly you don't know everything about it."

"It's my body, I know what I want. So give me the fucking box, Zayn." Zayn just stares at him for a moment. Then he turns around and firms his mouth in a tight line.

"You're so thick-headed," he says, looking anywhere but at Niall. "You're so fucking dense."

Niall wants to scream _it's my baby!_ ; _this is_ my _baby!_ ; but it's also Zayn's, so instead he rasps, "I know what's best for myself!" But at the same time a sharp pain erupts behind his stomach. It makes him hunch instantly and grip his belly protectively. He's never seen Zayn move so fast before.

"Niall? What's going on, what happened?" he continues. And his voice is annoying Niall.

"Yeah, just...." he exhales painfully. "Shut up, I'm fine. Worked myself up or something."

"Go lay down. I'll clean up here." It takes effort saying the rest, but he sighs and looks up at the ceiling unimpressed. "And I'll make you macaroni."

*

Niall takes a bath instead, has the tub filled with bubbles as he lays down contently. The area around his bellybutton sticks out of the surface of the water, like a little island. It makes him laugh.

"I bet _you're_ the one who likes all the mac n' cheese, Ems," he speaks fondly, running bubbles over the soft stretched skin.

"Is that what you're naming it?" Zayn asks, standing by the door, only sits on the closed toilet seat when Niall invites him.

"Hm? Oh, no. S'just a placeholder."

"What's Ems for then?"

 _Your last name_ , Niall thinks. "Not sure, actually," Niall shrugs.

Zayn's sitting on the floor by Niall, his shoulder against the tub as he scrolls through names on his iPad. He thinks Niall should name the child something authentic, something different, something you don't hear often.

"I don't want my baby having a hard time finding keychains with their name," Niall laughs. Zayn looks away sheepishly, like he's not in the position to offer advice. So Niall adds softly, "I'm kidding. I love the idea, help me, yeah?"

It's five names later, after they settled with Avery for the girl, that Zayn questions, "Mason?"

Niall mulls it over, water beginning to prune his fingers and toes.

"Mason," he tests. "I like it, yeah."

Zayn nods, puts the iPad away and hugs his knees to his chest. "So Avery Horan, is it? Mason Horan?" he smiles. "Sick, mate. I like it."

Niall looks away reddened, wishes for the first time that maybe his stomach was a bit smaller so he could disappear more.

"You know, what about... what about Avery Malik?" He bites his lips, runs his hands down his sides underwater. "Mason Malik, too. How does that sound?"

The silence stretches too far, and Niall's sure it's all going to snap back horribly when Zayn releases harshly, "What?"

"You're the father," Niall nods slowly, doesn't dare to even _think_ of looking at Zayn. He exhales the statement again, makes it concrete between them because everything else is falling apart too quickly for him to keep up.

Zayn still hasn't said anything, and with weak enthusiasm Niall turns to him, mutters, "Surprise?" in what he hopes is a smile that's just as disoriented as the man in front of him.

"You're telling me, right now, after all this fucking time, that I'm the _father?_ " he whispers, a tint of hurt latched onto the last word.

Somewhere along this Niall's crying, wiping his face furiously and trying to appear strong for himself and his child-- _their_ child.

"Can you get out, please?" he croaks, trying to sit up in the limited space. "I wanna go to my room and you need to leave now."

"No. I'm not going anywhere." Niall turns to him, ready to lash out when the gentle and barren look on his face shuts him up. "You mean we're having a baby? Me and you, we're bringing a child, that's _ours_ , into this world? Only ours?"

It's not the direction he thought the conversation was going, but Zayn takes care of him like never before that night, too. And all his bottled hormones and trapped ecstacy is released. It's dripping between their moving bodies and is swaying inside him and is under his fingers as he grips the sheets tighter at a rough thrust. It's pouring out of him again when Zayn leans down to whisper _I wanted this, fuck I wanted this, you, the baby, all of this more than anything_.

It's not the direction he thought the _day_ was going, but he's too tired to think and he's not going to complain.

*

Niall's stomach isn't going to get any bigger at this point. He tries to look at the positive of all the limitations, though. He could be lazy without feeling useless, he can eat without being careful, and Zayn does everything in bed; all he does is lay there and take it. It's what he wants, anyway.

He can also place a plate of food on his stomach as they watch _We're the Millers_ for the fourth time. (It's one of Niall's favorite movies and he's pregnant, shut up.)

The steamed vegetables on his plate jump suddenly, and he pushes the plate away for Zayn's hand where the baby is visibly kicking, the thick skin bulging out in the process. It's the first time Zayn's felt it, and he moves to kneel in front of Niall in amazement, moving both hands across the belly.

"You can't hear her, stupid," Niall laughs when Zayn presses his ear against him. It's funny, though, how Zayn's overly attentive and excited at any little thing referring to the baby.

"You said her that time," Zayn murmurs, lips pressed below his bellybutton.

Niall shrugs. He pictures a girl in his head.

Some days he falls asleep on the couch, wakes up in his room and continues his day. Other days they both lay awake in bed, Zayn's hand roaming the bulging skin completely.

"He's not moving," he whines. Since Niall uses female pronouns, he uses male ones so the baby doesn't feel left out.

"Doesn't really move a lot. She's gonna be lazy, I bet. Like you," he smirks. They fall into comfortable silence for a few minutes. "Talk to her," Niall suggests. "I'm sure she knows my voice, I've been talking to her since the beginning so she knows me." Zayn raises an eyebrow in question. "Want her to know her father, too."

"I'm sure he knows me already."

"Yeah, maybe 'cause I've always complained about you."

"Heeeeey," Zayn whines, but he smiles when he looks at Niall. "Have you said _anything_ nice about me?"

"I said you were pretty. Like, beautiful. Handsome, even. Completely _gorgeous_."

"Ha ha. I mean something valid?"

Niall mulls it over, leans back against the headboard and taps a beat against the round skin.

"I told her the band was the best thing to happen to me, that it led me to you. I said you're the greatest person I know, that even though we weren't together--at the time--I wouldn't want her from anyone else."

"I don't want her from anyone else either," Zayn whispers, coming up to sit next to Niall.

"You said her that time," Niall smiles. There's an undefined feeling in the air. Emotions laid out bare between them. But it feels good. Everything's good.

"I love you. Fuck, Niall, you don't know how much it killed me believing that someone else was the father. Someone _not_ _me_."

"You could've just put the pieces together, you know. The last time we fucked. When I became pregnant. That shit, dummy."

"I did, believe me, I did. But like, I thought, I was gonna come here and. I kept thinking you were gonna tell me it was someone else's. And that I had it all wrong, so. I'd rather admit it to myself than hear it."

"I thought I was gonna raise the baby alone. I didn't want that. But I didn't want to put that responsibility on you. Make you feel obligated or something. Then what we had would've turn to shit."

Zayn's laying with his feet hanging off the side of the bed, face pressed into Niall's stomach.

"Now _you're_ the dummy," he says. But he kisses the skin in front of him while doing so. "Your dad's a dummy," he says, poking the stomach.

*

It all happens really quickly for Niall.

One minute he's at the ballet recital with Zayn and Louis and Harry, watching their daughter dance in a pink tutu with matching ribbons in her hair as they wait for Liam to arrive.

The next he's in the hospital bed, maternal gown on as the sharpest most brutal pain stabs his body over and over again. He's hot, he's so fucking hot and he goes to take off the cloth when Zayn's hand stops him, pulling his sweaty wrist away.

Zayn says some shit, mouthing encouraging words and he really needs to fuck off.

"I'm hot," Niall clarifies, like Zayn doesn't understand English. "I'm fucking hot and this is for girls." They got their own room, anyway. He has every right to be naked if he wants to.

He lives for the moments the pain's at ease, he doesn't look at the chart that registers the contractions but this fucking dickhead lets him know anyway.

"Okay. Okay, Niall," Zayn warns when he sees the graph go up. "Just hold my hand. Just--"

"Shut up! You're not supposed to tell me--" but then the agony strikes again, and he's sitting up because laying down hurts more but it hurts in this angle too and he's too fucking big to move to the side so the pain just sits there heavily and Niall's never wanted death so much. "You're such a useless piece of shit," he cries, gripping onto something tightly. He hears Zayn grunt next to him, trying to move his fingers in Niall's grip.

All Niall remembers is cursing Zayn out repeatedly, saying he's never changing his name to Malik like they planned a few days ago and that Zayn better know what's coming to him when this is all over. He says a lot of other shit, too. Stuff he's not able to put together but he thinks Zayn understands because he looks worried, downright worried and anxious. Serves him right.

He remembers being told it was time, and a liquid's injected in his IV before he can respond.

*

The next few days are a blur of family visiting and getting situated with a new child and signing papers to leave this forsaken place.

Niall's able to admire the baby when they're home, when Zayn's putting the things they brought with them away and Niall's on his bed with a living baby in his hands, a tiny little human that lived in him for almost ten months.

Avery is beautiful, sparse black hair with toffee skin, skin softer than her father's. She's fat as hell and Niall didn't expect anything else because he picked up more weight than he's willing to admit for this miniature creature in his hands.

She's sleeping with a frown and dark pink lips are puckered out. Niall notices she has his butt chin, the slight indent right smack in the middle and it makes him sob out a laugh, the noise getting stuck in his throat in the process.

"She's a looker, isn't she?" Zayn asks, taking off his boots on the other side of the bed.

"Oh my God," Niall responds. "Zayn, she's real. She's _here_."

Zayn laughs, nods as the other boot comes off and he pushes up to sit next to Niall, looking down at the baby.

"Yeah, babe. She is. She's ours."

"Hear that, Ems," Niall smiles, doesn't put the nickname to rest. "You're ours. And we're going to annoy the hell out of you when you get older."

"Don't make her hate us already," Zayn says, leaning back with a hand running up Niall's side. There are little stretch marks there that Niall tries not to think of, knows those are blemishes that can't go away. But Zayn's ravished over them and repeatedly said it's proof he held their baby.

Their baby that's currently yawning, her tiny tiny mouth open wide. It makes Niall laugh, so many emotions churning in him that he's unable to define a single one.

"Baby, you had to see her while you were resting," Zayn says, kissing Niall's temple. "The fans are going to freak out over her. Call me crazy but I'm looking forward to it for once."

"You're crazy," Niall jokes. He only gets a bite on the neck for it. "I love her mouth the most so far. It's my favorite part of her." For some odd reason, he just loves the way it's shaped into a natural pout with no effort.

"Her eyes are my favorite," Zayn says, can't help but pull both of them closer. "They're blue. Just like yours."


End file.
